


Little Fucks

by twerrkingeren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twerrkingeren/pseuds/twerrkingeren
Summary: Seventeen year old Eren Jaeger is still recovering from his mother’s sudden death. With his father unable to take care of him, he moves in with his half-brother and his father's wife as he starts off his junior year at Trost High School. A week after school begins, a new face surface, a face his friends and most in his class know: Jean Kirstein, a sexually-confused rebel who constantly fights and is known for his discrimination.After only a few weeks of reconciling with the same people, Eren mixes his negative feelings for Jean with romantic. Unsure how to deal, Eren expresses his feelings to the boy he confines for. Things go bad, but soon to good as Eren loses his virginity. Their relationship complicates, but his friends worry his behavior may be an unhealthy way to cope with his loss.**Based off AoT High School AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey-o! welcome to my jeaneren fanfic! I don't want to waste your time i just want to say i hope you enjoy the story. This the first chapter and i havent wrote in a while so Im pretty excited to see how this story turns out! Thanks again!

_What if Titans still roamed the earth? I guess we'd all the dead most likely huh..._ What about people hovering? Like, there'll be no need for walking when you could just float. Yeah, that'd be awesome. No more stairs, no more achy feet or holes in my shoes. What if we just used maneuver gear to travel? If hovering were to be purchasable, I'd buy it in an instant. Wait, no.... I wouldn't be able to afford it.

I don't know.

Those are stupid questions I ask myself when insomnia punches me in the cheek. Simple questions that surprisingly keep me from having an anxiety attack. Questions that may seem stupid, but helps me omit that I haven't slept the whole night. I feel like I just fought a swarm of Titans or something else horrific that'll leave me restless and close to death. All night, I've been trying to get some shut-eye. They spring open and the night—like always—ends with me staring at a blob of darkness inside a large blanket, until I shove it off my face getting that rush of coldness.

Moonlight softly touches my face, peaking through the curtain-less windows above me. Much less intense than the sun, I can keep eye contact without seeing blotchy circles. To the other side of me, the TV light shined. I don't recognize the program. It's on Nickelodeon, maybe some late-night show for adults who don't sleep; I feel them on a physical, mental, and emotional level.

Is the window open? Why does it feel like there's a breeze? I snug tighter in the two cushy blankets, twisting around searching for an okay position. My bed is untouched, locked in wall. I haven't felt comfortable to lay or sleep on the bed since the evil springs could close me in its personal closet. So, I'm sinking in this decades-old couch right next to the teasing bed in this office now converted to my bedroom. I don't mind the conversion, I just wish I had a normal bed... and a door... and maybe some curtains...

I lost count of time. As I turn head, matted hair glided across the cotton pillow. Below me, the tiny flip phone charged on the thin long cord stretching behind the couch. I flip the top: 5:25 AM, in thick white lettering. I sigh, dropping it back on the carpet. Fingertips dragged over my weak eyes.

Not a wink, how frustrating.

Staying on the couch only teased the body who clearly wished no sleep. Laying here thinking more bullshit is pointless. The day had started rather I'd like it or not. I pick off the blankets rolling out the couch onto the carpet, too defeated to get up quick enough.

Well, thank God the bathroom is in the den, I don’t have to drag myself too far. Though, it's much colder than my room. I do my business, catching a weary character in the reflection. He's exhausted; sickly pale. Eyes are green adding attention to the red blur around them and dark rings below. Mahogany hair, matted but fell inches pass shoulders. Face imperfect, fixed with acne, alike a normal teen instead the ones you see in movies. To finish off, swimmer’s body, skinny and assisting curves that I’m quite fond of.

I snatch my eyes away, splashing water on my face beginning the process of completely waking up, starting with brushing my hair then teeth. There's pills in the cabinet, lozenges that make me empty. I don't take them. Instead I hop in the shower, where I finally can feel warmth.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

I walk out the den into the furniture-less foyer, not noticing Zeke until he spoke. Man, is he fully decked out. Ashy blonde hair frothy and waved behind his ear. Dressed tight in a black vest over a milky dress shirt and silver skinny jeans ending with his brand new original Converse. Zeke is slim, tall, the perfect–cliché—jock/son/older brother. We both stole features from Dad, except I look more like my mom.

Everyone expects me to be like him, too bad I'm too fucked up in the head to be sane as he is. To be as steady as him, as handsome and even manly. While he's nicely put, I had on a grey t-shirt three sizes too big with black sweats and worn Vans.

I fold arms relaxing my body. “What is it?”

Zeke strolled closer, a pearly straight smile plastered on his clear, tanned face. No, he isn’t a normal teen, he’s fresh out of ‘Degrassi’. “Since the ride to school is a little... lengthy... how 'bout if we leave now we can settle down at McDonald's and eat breakfast? How's that sound?”

I slightly smirk, pinching my upper arm, “Sure.”

 

Small moments pass, and we have left the house with our book-bags on back onto school. Our house stuck in a cul de sac molded deep in a neighborhood by a large forest. There's a long curved road going down the steep hill into another neighborhood. We made it down the path before Zeke finally broke the five-minute silence.

“Tell me, Eren,” his truck sputtered, the wheel jerking between hands. “What were you doing up so early?”

Slurring, still groggy, “I never went to sleep. Haven't slept in like...” I sulk in the passenger seat leaning against the window edge. The mountains clear in the orange sky as the sun begun to fully awake. “I don't know, it's been a while since I had a full nights rest honestly.”

“Since the funeral or—"

“Don't do that, Zeke. Don’t talk about that.”

“Have you talked about it at all? It's not something to just forget.”

“Where do you think Dad's money is going into every two weeks? Groceries? No.”

Zeke scoffs pulling all his weight to turn the wheel. “Alright, but you do know she would want you to sleep, right?”

“Oh my, God.”

“Alright, alright, alright. I'm done. I don't want to get on your bad side.”

Slouching deeper in seat, “No, you don't.”

“The ride to school, it's already a process. I want this time for you and I to, you know, reconnect?”

I sit up, squirming under the tethered seatbelt. “Okay... Why were you up so early?”

He’s chuckling softly. “Not going to lie, Eren, you moving in was stressful. Not saying you’re a hassle, but it’s just a major change. I haven’t been working out lately, and I feel a little out of shape.”

That’s funny.

“So, I wanted to run in the morning and eat super healthy.”

But instead we're going to McDonald's.

He scratched the side of his shaved chin, “Yeah, my relationship with you is a little more important. Are you doing a sport?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“It’s a nice distraction. They have swimming in the spring. You’re pretty good at that.”

“I guess so. I’ll think about it.”

We made it to the main street, halfway there.

“You meet anybody so far?”

“What do you mean by that? Like a date or whatever?”

“No, just in general.”

“Well, Armin and Mikasa aren't that bad.”

“Haven't heard of them.”

I notice myself picking at the Band-Aid over my thumb. There's no wound, until the anxiety would create one. Outside we made it to the other neighborhood. The sidewalk was pave-less, trash literally lined up by the dead trees. This is how I knew we were almost there.

“They're not popular. Like me. Just like how I want it.”

Two weeks. Two weeks and I’ve already been immersed in Zeke’s world. The real people I like are Armin Arlert and Mikasa Ackerman because they’re not friends with me to get to Zeke. It’s annoying, but at least I’m not invisible.

We pull into McDonald's, parked and went on inside. I ordered a sausage wrap and hash brown. Zeke got a sausage burger. For a good twenty minutes we ate and talked about classes. To be honest, I enjoyed spending time with him. It's been a while since we've even had a decent conversation since the incident. And now that we're sitting here eating and relaxing, I felt more comfortable, if anything in my own skin. Which, really has been a long time.

We wrapped up heading onto school. It's around 6:40 AM, I sat in the cafeteria still full from the wrap. Zeke had completely disappeared, probably noticed some friends and abandoned me. A couple people are here, but it's dead silent. To kill, time I finished up a skull drawing in my notebook. The time flew by and Armin arrived. He's sick with the Monday Flu, but talking bullshit with me cleared him up, and once Mikasa arrived he was completely cured. The day is normal, normal like it's always been for two weeks. To give truth, I defiantly didn't mind Trost High. It's much better than my experience with that boring private school.

  
Five minutes before first hour period, Armin and Mikasa went onto class. I head to my locker across the school thankfully near Ms. Zoe’s class. My red locker is on top, I wasn't paying much mind to the crowd growing around me. I just wanted to get my book, stuff my bag in there and go on. I did half that, ready to grab the thick Physics book but instead was struck with shock once my ass got a good grip.

“Nice ass. Can it take a pounding?”

I smack his hand away, flipping around to face the culprit, “In case you can't see: I'm a fucking dude.”

The long-face guy backs away hands up. A smile still growing, “My bad. Though,” his hands lower, “you got a chick’s body. Can't hide that ass in sweats, boy.”

I frown, “Fuck off.”

“Jean!” A guy with a shaven head interrupts. “You're back, man!”

Another guy with freckles swoops in for a bear hug patting the asshole's back. They break apart and conversate. I grab the Physics book, closing the locker, walking off to class. The one-minute bell rings, I sit in my seat all the way in the back by the window-view of mountains and newborn daylight. Ms. Zoe isn't in yet, and with that bullshit I forgot my drawing notebook, so instead I shoved my head into my folded arms. Beside me is shuffling, but I don't look up.

“Did you guys have a nice weekend?”

The last bell rings as the class amps up to our kind teacher.

I lift my head taking in a deep breath looking over to see who sat next to me, and wish I hadn't.

Jean notices my stare, making a toothy smile, “Hey, Sleepyhead.”

“Why are you sitting here?”

The announcements come on, everyone stands to do the pledge but a couple people including Jean and I. Once over, the principal spoke on new things going on for today. He ended with a "Have a great day!" and closed off. Ms. Zoe began the name-call.

I give Jean the stoniest eye I could. “Answer my question.”

“Look around, Smart-One, there's nowhere else to sit.” The class surely is full, not another seat clear in this cluttered mess. “Besides, I get to formally apologize for what happened a sec' ago.”

“Jean Kirstein?” Ms. Zoe calls.

Jean faces the front of the class, “Present!” I forgot, I've heard his name before. Ms. Zoe called him a couple times before silently skipping over with a scribble. Some people said he didn't go here, but she corrected them saying he was suspended. I didn't think much of it then, maybe a little curiosity, nothing after that.

Ms. Zoe writing on clipboard, “Oh, I see your suspension is up. Welcome to school.”

Corbin throwing thumbs up, “Hoping for a good year! Ms. Zoe smiles going back to name-calling.

I put my head into my arms. “Suspension?”

“I knocked a kid out for shit-talking. He was an asshole so he deserved it.” Another student calls for him, saying how she hasn't seen him since the last day of tenth grade. Other students join in. As they talk, Ms. Zoe calls my name.

Raising my head, I yell over talking, “I'm here!”

Jean gives me a short stare then goes back to the group of people.

Blonde Girl talks, “So wait, did you hit him first or...?”

“No, I never hit anyone first.” He snickers. “That's why that fuck is still suspended.”

Brunette Girl talks, “Dude, you rammed his head into a locker! That fight was on fire. Haven't seen one like that in a while.”

“You weren't there when I fought Thomas?”

Blonde Girl is clearly love-struck, “Oh, Jean, now you're just bragging.”

Jean shrugs but doesn't get to speak anymore since Ms. Zoe decided to start class. For the whole period, I couldn't help but stare at him. His skin fair, clean. Buzz cut hair a straight olive-color, matched his thinly-arched eyebrows and light eyes. Despite sitting, he towered over me. The way his chest puffed through his clean white sweatshirt sent me to think that he could easily pick me up.

“You lose something over here, Sweet Cheeks?” He whispers.

I break out of thought stuttering, “No, I was just thinking. I-I don't mean to stare sorr—” I furrow my brows. “Did you just call me 'Sweet Cheeks'?”

“What were you thinking about?”

“None of your business.” I hadn't notice Ms. Zoe passing out the new assignment, which sent everyone talking.

“Hey,” he lowers his voice, sinking closer to me, “you have nice eyes.”

Opening and closing my mouth, I struggle to form a sentence, “Th-th-are you… flirting with me?”

Jean’s demeanor changes to a dark frown. “I'm not a fag. Are you a fag, Eren?”

My mouth drops.

Ms. Zoe sets the papers in front of us, “You guys don't mind if I make this the new seating chart, do you?”

Jean went back to his smug, peachiness, “Oh, I like this seat. So yeah, that's cool.”

“I don't want any trouble, now.”

“You don't have to worry about us.” Giving me a sharp eye. “We won't give any problems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think so far? Please leave your comments down below and dont forget to favorite ♡


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there was this commercial on the radio talking about foreclosure and filling a chapter thirteen or whatever and the lady literally asked the man "what comes after chapter 12?" and im like.... yoo if you don't know what comes after 12 maybe your house get foreclosed not-knowin-math-havin-ass anyways heres the next chapter.

_Weeks pass since that unfaithful encounter with Jean._ He turned out to be in two of my classes: Physics and Algebra, both of them he chose to sit next to me. During lunch, he sits with Armin, Mikasa, some other of Jean’s friends, and I. They've known each other since grade school, yet there I was the new guy of the group. I try to ignore his comments since I’m still the new kid, and honestly I don’t have the energy for drama.

For the next couple of weeks, I sat there soaking in their stories and behaviors. I may have become the mute one of the group, but I really enjoy being here. The best part is they don't ignore me. Always including me in the conversation, even if I didn't know what the hell they’re talking about. I'm still the mysterious one, I don't want to ruin the surprise. They might think I'm crazy.

Or worse...

Depressed.

Then the pity rains down, pity that'll only make me feel more terrible about myself.

 

It’s lunch, two girls are going around selling tickets for the prep rally Friday. I don't have any money, never do, but Armin did. I met him first, in World History, a class he obviously loves. He sat next to me, brewed up a conversation about how exciting it is to learn about different cultures. From that time on he’s talk to me, even introduced me to Mikasa that very day at lunch.

He paid for his ticket and Mikasa, asking me if I needed one.

“No, I don't want to go.”

Armin retrieved the red tickets from one of the girls, “How come?”

Twisting my legs around the round seat, feeling Jean’s thigh rub slightly against mine, “I just don't want to go.”

Mikasa takes her ticket shoving it into her skinny pocket, “You sure? It's our first homecoming prep rally, you don't want to miss that do you?” She batted her heavily mascaraed, silver eyes leaning into the table. “Plus, we get to see the football team. What does your brother play again?”

“He's a linebacker.”

“Brother?” Jean nudges my arm, “Who is he?”

“Zeke Jaeger. I think... number 14?”

“19. Like his age.” Mikasa corrects me.

Jean rolls his eyes, “Okay, Mikasa, don't wet your panties.”

Mikasa scoffs loudly, pinching Armin as he laughs. “Jean! That's fucking rude.”

Armin rubs his arm. “Are you really surprised he said that?”

“Oooooh, riiiiight. I forgot, he’s a woman hater!”

“No, I don’t. It’s just obvious you want to fuck Zeke.”

Mikasa pops her thin brow, rolling her tongue, “Whatever. Good luck finding a girlfriend.”

“I don't need a fucking girlfriend.”

Armin leans over the spaghetti string on her tanned shoulder, whispering in her ear. Jean calls him out, “What is it? Keepin' secrets now?”

Armin faces him slightly bowing his head. “No, I'm trying to save her before you punch her in her throat.”

Mikasa swings her arm pushing Armin upright. “I can defend myself! Besides, I am not scared of his ass.”

“Are you still butthurt? I thought anal was your thing? You didn't stick a brush up there for nothing.”

Mikasa stands up thrusting her palms into Jean's shoulders. “Fuck you, Jean!

Jean jumps up repeating movements. “Don't get hit!”

Armin joins holding Mikasas' shoulders, but she doesn’t stop. “Fight me.”

“Think I won't? Think I'm afraid to fuck you up? Try me, bitch.”

“Jean—" I start to speak but I retreat.

Mikasa snatches Armin's hand off. “Don't touch me.” She walks off muttering, “You're such an asshole, Jean.”

I sit there, speechless. Looking up to Jean, thinking if he can hit a girl for any type of reason, he won't hesitate to whoop anyone else's ass. Plus: he's a douche abusing his power. What gives him the right to hate woman? If anything I'd believe he was a womanizer. And I don’t blame Mikasa for going off, if anything I’m tempted to fight him. But I have to restrain my emotions, I can’t keep getting into trouble…

… even if he fucking deserves it.

Armin frowns, “Jean, what the heck?”

Jean sits not looking up. “She'll get over it. This has happened before, you know. She's easily butthurt.”

Armin sits as well, looking around catching glimpse from everyone else. “What you said bothered her. Honestly, it'd bother me too. You need to lighten up.”

“Why would you say that?” I spoke before I could process the thought.

Armin takes a deep breath. “He’s mad because Mikasa broke up with him. And because everyone thinks he’s a momma’s boy, so he tries to act tough.”

“Seriously, Armin? Don't dissect me.”

“Whatever, it's true. You didn't have a father figure and your mom treats you like a baby. And let’s not forget you were bullied, so you just disrespect everyone to try and prove your manhood. I'm keeping it real with you, you need to stop.”

Jean eyes away from our table. Other people are staring talking underneath their breath. He stares for a moment coming back to our end section.

“I'm trying, alright?”

“Doesn't seem like it. You’re better than that.” Armin stands tapping Jean’s hand, Jean bats an eye. “No more fights.” Armin points, “Be a good boy.”

Jean huffs out air forming a smile, “Okay, Dad.”

“I'll go find Mikasa. Try and calm her down. I'll be seeing you two,” he snaps, finger blasting us, ”later.” He leaves, trotting out the cafeteria.

Jean slides over to where Armin sat. Not a second into getting comfortable, he calls one of the girls over. They both come, he buys two tickets handing them two bills. The girls waddle away whispering to each other, as Jean hands me the tiny, red paper with bold lettering "TICKET".

I pick my thumb between thighs, “I don't want to go...”

Jean clicks his teeth. “You're going. I'm forcing you to. Can't let you miss your first homecoming prep rally.”

“This isn’t my first.”

“It is here. Next year, you'll have a choice. This year, you don't. And don't even think about missing the dance, or especially the game. I’m serious about the game, I’ll rip you apart.”

I take the ticket tapping it on the marbled table. His stern voice repeating in my mind, I'm suddenly warm.

“It’s my brother’s game, of course I’m not going to miss it.” I look at him slightly frowning. “But the dance, why would I go to that?”

“Experience.”

“Who would I go with?”

“Me.” I blink, blood rushing through my pacing heart. “Armin. Mikasa. You don't have to have a date to go to a dance.”

“I don't—"

“Would it help if I buy your ticket?”

“No please, you already bought my prep rally.”

“I don't mind. I don't have anything better to do with all this money.” He smiles gently, stacking his arms.

Defeated, I stuff the ticket in my empty pocket. “Okay. Thank you. I, I really appreciate it.”

“You're quiet, Eren.” Eyes bouncing down to the edges of my hair. “Talk more.’

I wiggle my jaw adding a shrug. “I don't have anything to talk about.” The bell rings. We both stand up on que, walking side to side behind the pack of students.

“Where do you live?”

“Um... on a hill?” I nervously chuckle searching elsewhere to look besides his stern stare. “I don't know the address still, but... I'm by this HUGE forest.”

“No shit? So am I. I'm on Soldat Street.”

“I think I know where that is.” I lied.

He chortled, “Alright!” Backhanding my arm, leaving a nice red mark. “We live near each other. Look for me on your way home. Or, how about this: what's your number?”

Dumbfounded, I stand still on my side of the hall, patting my flip phone in my pocket. “Um...”

“What is it, Eren? You don't have a phone?”

“Well... I do but...”

His eye lower. “Oh. It's okay. You don't have to force yourself.” He's bowing his head like a scolded child continuing forward. Anxiety overrides me, I'm close to picking a hole into the bandage.

“Wait, Jean.” He turns around. I take a breath pulling out the dinosaur. He's quiet for moment, but hunches over to laugh. I feel my body grow hot. “What's so funny?”

He catches his breath. “Were you really embarrassed about that?”

“Maybe! Everyone has iPhones now... I feel fucking left out!”

“Oh, please.” He steps closer pinching phone out my hand. He flips the top, clicking away on keypad. I watch him work his magic, calming down on the bandage. His pocket buzzes, he pulls out his blackberry stopping the buzz handing my phone back to me. "JEAN END CALL" written in white as it goes back to the default screen. “Call me anytime. And hey, grow some confidence.”  
The second bell rings. “Let's head to class,” he leans over gripping my butt cheek. I squeal jolting away, “don't want Mr. Ackerman up your ass too.” He smiles beginning to walk.

I follow him still speechless, joining the scattering crowd.

 

For those couple of weeks, I really felt I was a part of something. I actually had something to tell my doctor. As those weeks continued, I've connected closer to Jean believe it or not. He always ask my feelings, fill me in details when in a discussion about past drama. I felt he was a becoming nice friend, even better as I developed a nice little thing for him forgetting the personality change when we first met. He had to be that way, it'd be impossible for him not to.

Turns out he only lived a couple blocks down from me. He was very enlightened to hear the news. I visited that very day, and we talked gibberish. I ask him rather he like girls or boys, and there that demeanor change again. He's "not interested in anyone" which I knew was bullshit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback plas


	3. Chapter 3

_Nine on a Thursday, the night before Homecoming, I received a call from Dad_. He’s in Spain, for a meeting with Doctors Without Boarders. While it’s a nice deed for him to help sick people around the world, I wish we could spend more time with each other. Especially since I’m down a parent.

My therapist says I’m still in shock, my next stage is apparently denial. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel alive, and why the days are flying past, and why I’m not sleeping at night. I haven’t talked about it with any of my new friends, I think I’m afraid of going into the next stage.

Zeke and his mom Dina were in the kitchen arguing about guess who. She didn’t like my mom because Dad had an affair, and I bet she’s glad the bitch is dead. But she isn’t glad she has to take care of the mistress’ kid. I can hear her bitch about her finances, not liking to take care of my medical bills while Zeke tries to convince her that I’m family.

Of course, she doesn’t see me as family, Zeke. I’m a constant reminder that Dad didn’t love her enough.

I laid on the couch staring at a blob of darkness listening to my name spout out the witch’s mouth. Only this time, I didn’t have to lie here in pain. Armin and Mikasa lived to far away, but there was another place I wanted to go.

I left out the small back door in the garage escaping their argument. It's dark out, but I didn't care. I left them to fight their own despair. Blocks and blocks I walked over dirt pass trees. Cold winds blew pass me, I had no jacket and my pajama pants dragged. No streetlights, I could barely see, only houselights guided me. This was a hilltop right next to a large forest, literally a coyote or wolves could gobble me up and drag me away. Honestly, that doesn't sound too bad.

Jean's house is on the corner of Soldat Street with dead grass and a blue worn down pickup truck in the driveway. Thankfully, I had made my destination, opening the screen and knocking hard on the side door. At that time, I had remembered he lived with his mother and how sweet she was. It still cracks me up how squirmy Jean gets whenever she pinches his cheeks or call him “Jean-bo”.

The door opens, Jean had popped in the screen with a distraught frown.

Jean cracked the screen, “Eren, what are you doing here?” He looks behind me. “Fuck. It's dark and cold, what the hell?”

I create heat with my hands. “My folks are sorta arguing. I didn't know where else to go. Please, let me in?”

Hesitating, he pushes screen door allowing me in. “Did your phone break? What happened to calling? Fuck, it’s really is cold, let me get you a jacket or something.”

I step in, feeling my phone buzz in my pocket. I pick it out seeing Zeke’s caller ID. I answer, “Zeke?”

“I see you decided to sneak out the house, huh?” Dina scolded me.

I sigh feeling my eyes water. “I just needed to get away. You and Zeke were arguing and—"

“Think you're grown? Fine, stay away. Come back tonight, I dare you. See what happens.”

“But—” Dina hangs up. Jean strolls back in with a dark jacket. He wraps the jacket around my shoulders rubbing my arms.

“Thirsty or maybe hungry? Must've walked quite a distance.” Pulling me into the empty den. The house is very quiet, it seemed like he was the only one here. He sits me down on the flowery, cushiony couch.

“I'm fine.”

Jean sits in one-seater widening his legs as he scoots down. I can see his... lengthy outline... through the red basketball shorts. “So, what brings you here on this fine evening?”

Refraining myself from looking below the belt, I answer, “I-I told you, my parents were arguing?”

“Duh. I mean what about?”

I scratch my thumb. “Me? I don't know. My step-mom, or whatever, doesn’t like me. They were talking about finances…”

“That's why you left?” He scoffs. “My folks argue all the time about money, I don't just up and go.”

“I'm not you. And, it's kinda personal...”

Jean scoffs into a laughter. “Personal.” He stands up walking to kitchen. I look around, seeing the overly decorated living room. Across me the front door, beside a dark hallway. I hear low clattering in the kitchen, but my attention is turned to the hallway after hearing a loud bump followed by moan. Jean rushed in with two cups in hand. He sets them on the coffee table. “It's Mountain Dew.” He rushes off disappearing in the hallway. A soft conversation begins, but they end shorty before Jean reappears. “My mom is sick.”

My heart drops. I glance into the empty dark falling back to Jean. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah it’s just a flu. She’s just melodramatic.”

I look at the navy-blue cup, grabbing the sides bringing to my mouth. The soda is fresh, sizzling down my throat. I set it back after taking a few gulps.

“Now, about this personal thing.” He leans in sucking his bottom lip. “You're clearly going to be here a while. Now, why don't you talk to Dr. Kirstein.”

I softly chuckle, falling against the couch, pulling the zipper over my torso. “My mom died a few months ago.”

Jean pauses clasping his hands together. “I'm sorry. Why did you say anything?”

I shrug. “I don’t think I want to believe it.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“It was a freak accident. The bus she was on flipped over. I don’t know… there was black ice and the snow was falling hard.” I take a hard swallow, fiddling fingertips. “We actually got into an argument before she… What’s crazy is…” My breath jittered to a sigh. Hot tears swelled up falling down my cheek. I refuse to look at Jean, instead I bury my face into my knees, coughing cries. Warmness filled behind my neck and shoulders.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Coughing, I feel my body tremble. “No, I just… I don’t remember what we were arguing about. I just, I remember her leaving saying she’ll be back and being frustrated at me. I weep in my slippery palms. “Oh yeah, I got into fight with someone at school and got suspended.”

“That’s something you forgot?”

“Well it happened so often I didn’t think anything of it.” My voice shivers to a whisper. “It was just another day.”

Jean tugs my shoulder, rocking gently back and forth. “Shhhh, it's okay. Settle on down.” There's a darkness surrounding me, vision blurred, hands shaking violently. Tears rushing, my throat suddenly dry from all the hard, labored breathing.

“I just can’t believe she’s gone. She really is gone.” I clear my throat. “Then that bitch, Dina. I bet she wanted her dead. I bet she wanted me there when it happened. Lucky for her, I wish I was there too.” I managed to chuckle a bit.

“Don’t say that.”

I shake my head.

“Are you talking to a therapist?”

“Yeah.”

We sit there in silence for a moment before Jean spoke up again. “It's late, why don't you call your folks?”

“I don't think I can go home tonight.”

Jean scoffs standing up. “You're lucky Mom is sick. Let's get some rest, we have a pretty exciting day tomorrow.”

Jean takes me to the basement where he let me sleep on his stacked mattresses. I'm tired, for the first time in months. He lays beside me, having a huge empty space between us. A bright light bugs me for a moment, I open seeing he's tapping away on the keypad of his phone.

“Did you tell Zeke you was here?”

I blink, shoving my hand into my pocket feeling my tiny phone, “No, I didn't. Thank you for reminding me.” I reach Bash's number, texting him where I was. I ask Jean for his address and plucked it in the text. Afterwards, I ask him to pick me up in the morning and bring clothes.

His reply minutes later, "I'll be there at six. We'll talk on our ride to school."

I close my phone setting it on the wooden floor beside the worn mattresses. Before I set off to knock out, I ask Jean another question. More of a repeat, “Hey, Jean, when you said you didn't have an interest in anyone, did that mean you don't find anyone attractive?”

Jean exhales loudly, “I don't know, Eren. I just… I don’t find… I don’t understand the hype of girls. And I think being gay is wrong so,”

“Why don't you like woman? So what you hate your mom.”

“Lord, Eren. I don’t hate women don’t listen to Mikasa. The shit between us is sorta personal.”

I huff out my nose, mocking him, “Personal.”

Jean looks to me blankly blinking a few times. “She didn’t break up with me, I broke up with her. She’s probably a faggot I don’t know.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What? ‘Faggot’?”

“Yes! It’s offensive.”

“Why? Are you gay?”

“Are you?!” I snap back.

Jean sits up looking down on me. “Eren, don't make me not like you. I see you're tired. Go onto bed, now.” I rest my head in the pillow. I’m a bit restless, but I slowly closing my eyes anyways. “Eren,”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

Silence. I begun to face him but he answered, “Nope, and I don’t plan to.”

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_I awoke the next morning wrapped in a thick blanket._ It reeked of Jean, I inhaled embracing the musk. I study my surroundings, seeing wooden beams above and stairs next to me. The mattress creaked as I moved off. Not much going on, I head upstairs seeing Jean chug Mountain Dew out the bottle.

He notices me, taking a breather from the liter. “Hey, you slept well didn't you?”

“I slept?”

Jean threw his head back in short laughter. Calming down to a grin, “Yeah, you slept. You were snoring like a loud ass bear, dude.” He caps the liter, shaking his head, “I thought I snored loud. You were in a coma, man. Thought you were going to wake up my mom for a moment.”

I sigh, “I'm sorry. I don't usually sleep that much at home.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, sleeping on a couch and having insomnia don’t mix.”

“Oh, I understand.”

“Yeah.” Rubbing shoulder, I eye the door. “My brother should be here soon. His mom probably freaked out last night. Or worse... Zeke did.”  I realized left my phone downstairs. My eyes avert to the oven. 5:54 AM. I whisper, “I actually woke up on time...”

“Yeah, I'm usually up around five to feed Mom and get breakfast going. I was going to wake you at six, but you beat me to it.”

He cooks his mom breakfast? How sweet.

I walk to the side door, looking out for Zeke’s truck.

“What time will you brother be here?”

“Six.” Fingertips seized against my thighs. I turn to Jean, “Were you going to ask me to homecoming? A-As a date?”

“Huh? A date? Why would I do that?” He frowns, “How many times do I have to tell you— 

“I think I like you.” Swallowing a lump, “Maybe more as a friend.” What was I doing? Setting my deathbed _._ “I don't know, I just want to be honest with you.” 

Jean sets the soda on counter creating a large sigh, “Way to ruin our friendship, Eren. Get out.”

Facing full body towards him, shocked, “... wh-what?”

“Sorry, but I'm not going to be friends with a faggot.” He walks to side door swinging open the door,“Get out.”

I back away heart racing, “No.”

Darkness rides his face. “Eren, don't make me get physical. Get the fuck out.”

“You think after what happened last night, I'm just going to let you kick me out? You're so fucking confusing.”

Jean sighs heavy.

I back away further squeezing fingertips into my palm. “Don't fuck with my emotions, Jean! I’m already unstable, I don’t need you sending me a bunch of fucking mixed signals.”

His face blemishes red, “Eren,”

“’Not interested in anyone.’ That's bullshit and you know it!”

“Keep your fucking voice down! I swear if you wake my mom, I'm strangling you.”

I step closer lowering my voice, “You're blushing.”

He takes a step back, “Back the fuck off, Eren.”

I step closer, Jean slams the door close with his back. His body heat radiating before me. I study his height, beneath his strong chin, grasping his strong musk. Jean slightly shoves me.

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?” His face softens, his voice cracks, “I mean it, Eren. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Do it!” I suddenly feel warm, no longer in control of my actions. “I don’t feel pain.” I softly breathing on his lips, “I like you.” Whispering, gently licking his bottom lip, “Jean.”

He pushes his lips closer. My hand tracks up his tee, gaining every detail of his tone. His musk is real, stuffing my nose with bliss. Our lips inch together, so close I could taste the Mountain Dew.

We break apart to a loud banging behind him.

Jean flips around opening the door.

Zeke stands there in his red jersey, seeing me in relief. “Thank heaven, I'm at the right house.” He sighs chuckling softly. “C'mon, Eren, let's go. Mom flipped out last night, so I suggest you get a good day at school.”

Shocking she cared enough to wonder where I was. I surpass Jean stepping out into the chilled air. I realize I still had on his jacket, but pretended not to know. Zeke is staring into Jean, and Jean isn't breaking away.

Jean chuckles, “Nice to see you again, Zeke.”

I see Zeke's Adam's Apple wiggle, “Don't worry, I didn't hurt your brother.” He focuses on me, “See you at school, Eren.” The atmosphere is tense, and gets worse as Jean shuts the door leaving Zeke and I wondering to his truck.

As we drive down the hill in complete silence, Zeke finally decides to break. Just as I remember I left my phone.

“I don't want you hanging out with him.”

I snap head to him. His blue eyes dead ahead. “What? Why?”

“He's bad news. It's my job to protect you, and that asshole is going to snap you in half. I'll be damned if I let you hang around such bad influences. You make me want to meet Armin and Marissa.”

I lean in, “It’s Mikasa! And he's not bad news, Zeke! Don't try and control who I hang out with. Y-you're not Dad!”

“Eren, seriously, I don't want you around him.”

“Oh what, you want me to switch my classes? Don't go to lunch? How about I just move too since he's too close to our place?”

“Why are you so defensive? You just met him.”

“I like him!”

Zeke’s his whole face settles to a frown. He lays eye on me for a split second before shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. A sharp turn, the car smoothly transitioned but Bash puts in effort. He got into a better position. “Are you gay?”

“I don't know.” My ears began to blush. “I just know you don't get to control who I hang out with. I don't like that!”

“I don't care.” He says flatly. “Stay away from him, Eren.”

I click my teeth, “Whatever.” I cross my arms seeing the sun rise. “I'm going to the homecoming dance with Armin and Mikasa, though.”

“I want to meet them.”

“You'll meet them tonight at the game. Or tomorrow.” I scratch my bandage.

“No, I'll just sit with you during breakfast.”

I snap my neck to him, “WHY?!”

“What the fuck you think ‘why’?! I want to meet them.”

“Zeke, no please.”

“This part of the conversation is over.”

I fall into the seat “Oh my, God!”

“Quit being a brat. Anyways, Mom is pissed at you.”

“Why?” I sigh.

“I am two seconds from swerving off the road.” He mutters. “WHY do you think, Eren?! Please, fucking educate me.”  

“Because I left?”

He sings, “Reeeeaally? I wouldn't have thought of that.”

“I didn't want to you to argue about me.”

He slightly wiggles his jaw, “Please, Eren. It was nothing. That doesn't mean you can just up and go. Mom almost called for the police but... you worried us. You just left with no warning.”

“Yeah, and I'll do it again. So stop talking about me.”

Zeke’s sigh is more of a growl, “Why are you being such a brat all of a sudden? This isn't you.”

“Maybe it is, and I'm growing more confidence. I think the therapy is working.” I say sarcastically.

Zeke frowns, “I don't want to hear another word out of you.” He flips on the radio, speeding along. He got his wish, I said nothing the rest of the ride.

 

At school, I changed into the large Vans tee that dragged off my shoulders and unfitting pleaded jeans. Neither are mine, I guess all my clothes are dirty? Nothing I'm wearing is mine but the worn shoes.

In the cafeteria, Zeke sat across me arms folded. A few people wished him a good morning, but he only gave them half a smile. He watches me draw. I'm shading darker around the eye sockets, refusing to look up.

“You know, you're a really good drawer.”

I ignore him continuing to tilt my pencil.

“Do you have any more drawings?”

I stop, taking a hard inhale. No one has actually _asked_ to see my drawings before, so I begin to doodle whatever. I try not to draw where eyes wonder, they always criticize. Good or... good? I haven't really gotten a bad compliment, just know-it-all tips on how to draw better or complaints wishing they had my "talent".

“Placing the pencil aside, I flip the book to him, “The whole first half of the notebook.” Crossing arms, avoiding eyes.

Zeke flips to the front starting at the beginning. The detailed mermaid, portrait of Madonna, a random skeleton, doodle of a classroom, guy with tattoos and intense piercing, girl with tattoos and intense piercings. Zeke is clearly amazed, gasping under his breath.

“Eren, I didn't know you had such a talent.”

“I wouldn't call it that. I just doodle.”

“Bullshit. This is awe—" he stops once as a blond coconut-head arrives to sit next to me. He eyes him tweaking his thumb and finger on the thin page. “Are you Armin?”

Armin corner eyeing me going back to Zeke, “Yeah... Did I do something?”

Zeke grins, “No, nothing. I just wanted to meet you. Eren has talked about you.”

Armin makes a cheeky smile. “What had he say?”

“Your name.”

Armin giggles nodding his head. “Understandable. Well you see, Zeke, Eren and I are getting married. And we're running off to Switzerland.”

I shoot a stink eye at Armin.

Zeke makes a short laugh. “Britain is better.”

“I... hope you know I'm kidding.”

“I have a sense of humor.” Lies.

“Eren is like a brother to me.”

“A brother from another mother?”

Armin opening mouth, tilting head, “I see your humor.”

“Sorry, no disrespect. I kid around a lot.” He almost doesn't finish his sentence when Mikasa strolls over. I barely notice the cafeteria filling up rather quickly, getting noisy instantly.

Mikasa forcing a smile, squatting next to Bash. “H-hey, Bash. What're... doing here?”

Zeke leans away from her, keeping a smirk, “Mikasa. Hey, I'm just meeting the people Eren hangs out with.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know my name?” Bash points at me. She chortles, looking my way, “Wow, okay. Are you sitting with us for now on?”

I widen my eyes giving Bash the most uncomfortable death glare I could. He noticed and scoffed. A few girls greet Bash as they walk by, he barely pays them any mind.

“No, I just wanted to put faces to names.” Standing, pushing the notebook to my chest, “I'll finish looking at these later. They're really good, Eren, you have a gift.”

I stare down feeling a sense of joy.

“I'll see you guys later.”

Mikasa looks up excitedly, “Are you going to the dance?”

Zeke hesitates, “Nah, I'll probably just drop Eren off.”

Mikasa bats her eyes, “Nobody asked you?”

He smirks dimly, “They have... I'm just not interested.”

Mikasa holds back a frown, “Oh... okay.” She perks up anyways, “Well, I'll be at your game tonight, so have a great one! I know you'll do amazing.”

“Thank you.” Zeke waves goodbye sinking into the crowd of students. Armin and Mikasa both stare at me in disbelief.

I put away my notebook in solace.

“I can't believe he is your brother...” Mikasa whimpers.

“Why? Is he too cute to be related to me?”

“Woah, snappy. I mean he's just so... and you're so... I mean you guys kinda look alike but he's...”

Armin interrupts, “You suck at this.”

“I'm sorry, Eren.”

I ignored them, staying silent for only a moment before a new conversation became.

“Hey, Eren, you ever smoke before?”

I glance to the goth girl. “Weed?”

She nods.

“No. I was close once, but I decided not to.”

“You should ask your mom if you can come over after school. We can hang out until the game.”

“If you wa—”

“My mom is dead.” I interrupt Armin but furrowed my brows to him. “You smoke?!”

“Not often.”

Mikasa taps table with fingertips, “I do often.” She smirks lightly, “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah. I'll ask Zeke later.”

“You don't have to. It's up to you.”

“It's fine. I kinda want to try it.”

“It's pretty nice.” Mikasa reaches arm over the table rapidly tapping Armin's arm, “I got a dime from Annie yesterday, so I think that'll be good.” They talked and talked, words I have no clue what they mean. Again, I went silent.

 

I walk into Ms. Zoe’s class groggily. Despite the full night rest, my exhaustion caught up. I fall into my seat, head dropping into arms. The last bell rings, I feel no shuffling beside me. Jean isn't here. He misses the name-call, bell work, and homework check. She gave another assignment out the book. Like cattle, I follow her instructions getting down to business. Twenty-three questions on algebraic equations from word problems. No solving, not 'till tomorrow. I get to the thirteenth question, a tiny black object slides over my sheet. It’s my phone. Next the shuffling.

Jean plops down sighing out, “Do you have paper?”

I nod, searching in my notebook for a clean sheet, ripping the sides cleanly.

He gently lays the sheet before him, “Can we share your book?”

I say nothing pushing the thick book in the middle of the desk, continuing to work.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're mad what's wrong?”

I grunt, brushing my bangs back over my head, “I'm annoyed.”

“Why?”

I feel my eyes water, but I hold them back. “Forget it!” I begin to work but I interrupt myself, “What did you do to annoy my brother?”

“Sorry to tell you, but your brother is butthurt.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“He can't take a joke. During condition, he got super offended when me and the other teammates were joking about stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

“I do.” Pausing, “What do you mean by conditioning? As in football?"

Jean nods.

“Since when?”

“Last week. I begged Mr. Ackerman. Practically kissed his ass. I got on though.”

“Where's your jersey?”

“My locker. I didn't feel like prancing around in my wear.”

I take the phone shoving it in Jean's jacket, “Don't let Mr. Ackerman see yo—"

“Is my jacket comfortable?”

I pinch the zipper skimming over the unfinished assignment.

“It looks good on you.”

_He's an asshole. No way he forgot about this morning. No way he forgot I confessed my liking to him. Why is he teasing me? Is he really bad news? It's hard ignoring his flaws... fuck him._

The tears came back. “Stop, Jean.”

“Huh?”

I slide off the jacket, tossing it to his lap. “You're toying with my emotions. You're doing it on purpose.” A tear runs, “Stop.” My finger begins to pick.

Jean wraps the jacket around my shoulders. “Hold onto this for me. I have enough clothes with me right now.”

I hold the edges furrowing my brows, “Are you bipolar?”

“No, I'm just confused."

I nod. “Yeah?” Sinking into the seat nearly stuttering again, “Can... can we talk later?”

Jean tap his finger on the empty sheet, “Yeah, we can.” He looks to me, “Do you have another pencil?”


End file.
